


King Of The Clouds

by thebadthingshappen



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Demigod AU, F/M, M/M, everyone is college aged so 18+, nothings here is canon obviously
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 09:46:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebadthingshappen/pseuds/thebadthingshappen
Summary: Everything happens for a reason, but every once in a while, some things don’t.- tumblr: thefaultinourstarker -





	1. seasonal depression

That was the weird thing about it all: Peter wasn’t a crier. 

He would marvel in the concepts of emotions, why he felt certain things and why other people made him feel certain things. And that was the weird thing. He was content, happy, kind-hearted, and it really took a lot happening to change that demeanor. Perhaps it was the tragedy in someone’s life that he wasn’t able to comprehend that finally brought him over the edge. And that’s why right now he sat in the back of his math lecture with tears cascading down his face, though seeming otherwise fine. 

Tony watched him. Tony was always watching him. He had been for the past four months, absolutely enamored by the other’s beauty, unable to pull himself away from the other’s presence. Everything about Peter seemed to cause some sort of chemical reaction in Tony’s brain to absolutely combust. Whether it be the clothes he was wearing, always seeming so soft and comfortable, his gentle voice as he answered a question posed to him in class, the gentle notes of delicately crafted words sang songs of love and tranquility in Tony’s ears, or be it the shy smile that played his lips whenever he would be complemented by the professor or a fellow student in class,  _ all  _ of those things caused great panic and great ache in Tony’s chest. 

It should have been easy for Tony to ignore all of these things, ignore the aching in his chest and the angel as he sang from just a few seats in front of him. Tony  _ hated  _ people and had an instinctive distrust for those around him. It perhaps stemmed from his fear of emotions and fear of feeling absolutely anything at all.  _ Bad  _ things happened when Tony  _ felt.  _

And that’s why Tony wasn’t surprised when he heard the soft patter of rain droplets dancing on the roof above them. It was a minor side effect compared to what it could be, or what it had been.  _ No  _ he didn’t hear the distinct sound of  _ that  _ thunder, which comforted him just a little bit. Thunderstorms were very uncommon in December anyway, people would find that odd. 

Peter seemed to notice. The sound of rain, even being soft, made him flinch. He wiped the tears from his face, finally noticing  _ that  _ too. It felt wrong, the rain felt wrong and suddenly Peter felt like he was being watched. He subtly looks over his shoulder and for a brief moment his honey soaked eyes met deep brown and for a morsel of time everything seemed to make sense. He noticed Tony, and wondered if it was even possible to  _ not  _ notice him. The word that came to mind whenever Peter thought about Tony was  _ energy.  _ His entire being radiated a type of energy that Peter hadn’t felt from anyone before. Peter was  _ attracted  _ to this, even aside from how physically attractive Tony was. 

Peter knew who Tony was. He just wondered if Tony knew who  _ he  _ was. 

* * *

“Seasonal depression. Seasonal depression is a thing, you know.” Steve stared at his friend, absolutely dumbfounded. 

“People don’t just start crying like that for no reason, depression or not. Something  _ felt  _ wrong, Steve. Get that stick out of your ass.” Tony stares out the window of the library. The rain had yet to subside, and it only made Tony feel worse. He should be able to  _ control  _ this by now. “I know you always think you have an answer for everything. You’re  _ always  _ right. But can you just stop thinking for once and just listen to me?” Out of all the inner rage Tony housed, the one thing his rage would never sever was his friendship with Steve Rogers. Steve was probably the one person Tony trusted with his life, the one thing that was ever present and the only other being that could seemingly relate to all his life experiences. They were nomads in the vast terrain of life and seemed to have never wandered too far from one another. But as strong as that bond was, the rage still festered at times because the one word that came to mind when he thought of Steve was  _ stubborn.  _

“I’d rather have my head in a book than in the clouds.” Steve looks back at his laptop screen, typing something vigorously. It probably had something to do with a current obsession. Steve did this a lot: found interest in something seemingly random, learned everything he possibly could about the subject, then about six months into whatever projects he had involving the subject, he got bored and moved on. He was seemingly a never ending well of knowledge that could never be filled. The world would run out of books before Steve ran out of inventory in his mind to learn. 

The one thing Steve never got to learn inside and out was Peggy. Peggy was Steve’s girlfriend… well… ex-girlfriend. But that is a story for another time.

“You’re a real asshole, ya know? Saying shit like that.” Tony wanted to spit in his face. And a younger Tony Stark probably would have, but challenging Steve usually never went his way. 

“I’m pretty sure you call me an asshole more than you say my legal name. And yet here we are, best friends for life.” The blonde shakes his head, a smirk playing his lips. “Unless you’ve just been using me this entire time, for class notes and such. And to handle your little temper tantrums.” Steve jokes. 

“I haven’t had a  _ real  _ temper tantrum in five years…” Tony’s gaze shifts back to out the window, where he spots a certain classmate. 

Peter was along the pavement, maybe fifteen feet from the window, looking down at his phone. He had the same blank stare on his face that he had during class. It was eating Tony alive. He  _ had  _ to do something. 

“As much as I shit on you, you’ve grown a lot and you know it, Tones.” Steve murmurs as he clicks away at his laptop. “It just sucks that you get so hung up in these little moods sometimes. It  _ rains  _ here sometimes and that’s okay.” 

“I really hate the rain, I’m not sure that’ll ever change.” Tony’s gaze narrows. He’s practically cringing at the conversation. Steve meant well, he always did. But ever bone in his body wanted to tell his best friend to shut up, that he would never understand, even if Steve was one of the only people who were  _ close  _ to understanding. 

Tony looks back up at Peter, who was still looking aimlessly at his phone. Okay,  _ now.  _ He’s out of his seat, walking towards the exit of the library. He doesn’t say goodbye to Steve, they  _ never  _ say goodbye to each other. 

Outside is dreary to say the least, a soft drizzle still blankets over the campus as students rush from building to building to catch their next class or to meet up with friends. A beacon of hope in the middle of the mist is Peter, back turned towards Tony. Peter Parker who Tony had been in love with since the moment he laid eyes on the delicate thing. He’s drawn closer, slowly at first, until it feels like he’s almost sprinting towards the other, his breath catching in his throat as he reaches out his hand to touch Peter’s shoulder. Before he can, it’s almost as if Peter saw  _ him  _ first, spinning around just as Tony’s hand is inches away from him. 

Their eyes meet first, and for a few moments the world stops, and it seems like nothing could bother them. Not the frigid temperature nor the creeping sensation of the rain soaking through their coats. The world is silent and Tony for once feels like he’s  _ supposed  _ to be here. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.” 

“I’m-”

“Anthony.” 

“Well, Tony, but yeah, and you’re-” 

“Peter.” 

“Yeah.” 

Tony takes a deep breath, their conversation already seeming to wind him. He had never experienced difficulties talking to people  _ ever  _ in his entire life. His mother had taught him not to care, and while Tony wasn’t a social butterfly, he could hold up a conversation quite well when he didn’t care. So perhaps that was the problem. 

“You were… You were crying today.. In Baker’s lecture. Just wanted to make sure uh- that everything was okay.” Tony felt as if he was choking on his own words. Why was this so hard? 

“Seasonal depression… is a thing, you know.” Peter says, though it seems forced. 

Tony tilts his head, giving Peter a look that did not at all assure the other that be believed him. He absolutely didn’t. But Tony wasn’t sure what was worse: the actual suggestion that Peter indeed have seasonal depression or that Peter was lying to him. 

“Right.. Yeah.. sorry, dunno why that never occurred to me.” He was completely baffled, wanting to call Peter out on his bluff, but it wasn’t really his business. There was obviously a reason he was being lied to. 

Peter shakes his head, taking a step closer to Tony, entering his space, which seemed to only suck more air from his lungs. “Please don’t apologize… the fact that you’re checking in on me.. Is like the sweetest thing ever.” Peter’s cheeks are flushed, and the way his bites his bottom lip might just send Tony into shock, but he keeps his composure, even with the little nymph just inches away from him. 

“If um.. You ever want to talk about it, I’m free more often than I’m not.” Tony reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone to offer it to Peter. 

“I think I could use someone to talk to.” Peter nods, his fingers delicately taking the phone, ever so gently brushing against Tony’s and-  _ spark! _

A surge of electricity rushes through both of their bodies, sending them flying into the air in opposite directions, each landing on the hard pavement a few yards away from one another. 

“Tony, what the fuck!” 

* * *

Looming over the scene is a figure perched on the library’s roof. He stands and watches, not phased by the occurrences. Things have a mysterious way of happening just as they should, even if it takes longer or shorter than expected. He knows this from experience and from watching them. It is only now that he is able to intervene as he has been waiting for many years. He was eager to uphold his duty, though nerves did persists as he was given such a grand task, one so grand that it would mean balancing the world for millennia to come. 

“My goddess Demeter. It is finally time. They are ready.” 


	2. what's your name?

_“This is fucking insane! They know who killed him! They knew who killed my husband and they won’t even go after him!”_

_Peter keeps his head down, letting his aunt scream and mourn. He didn’t seem to react to her. It wasn’t like she was yelling at him. And to his benefit she didn’t exactly take out on him. But she would get into moods that only ramped up his anxiety._

_She was right to be angry. They did know who killed Uncle Ben. And no, they weren’t doing anything about it. But how could they? It wasn’t something any normal police officer was prepared to go up against._

—

“He’s dead! I fucking killed him!” Tony flails his arms around violently, pacing around the room as he had been for the past ten minutes. 

“He has a pulse, Tony. He’s fine.” Steve flips through a book, sitting closely to his bed where Peter is lying, completely passed out and unmoving. 

“Alive doesn’t mean fine, dipshit!” Tony snatches the book out of Steve’s hands. “You were freaking out less than twenty minutes ago.” He glares daggers down into his friend. 

“Yeah, because I thought he was dead.” He snaps back. 

—

_Sometimes Peter wondered if he would ever meet him, the person who killed his uncle. Most people don’t wish to meet their loved one’s murderers, but Peter just wanted to know why._

_Uncle Ben’s murder was tied to many others, most notably to Maria Stark’s. It was all the same person, and everyone knew who it was, but unlike the authorities, Peter knew exactly what he was._

_They called him Winter._

— 

Tony sat across the room from Peter and Steve. After a bit more bickering thing had finally calmed down and he could just sit there and watch like he normally did with Peter anyway. He could add this to the list of things that seemed to go wrong in his life. He lost his mother, had no contact with his father, had basically no real friends other than Steve and now he had almost killed the guy he had been crushing on for months. 

The worry and anxiety built up in his chest.

The rain outside grew heavier. 

—

_Peter met Winter._

_A hand wrapped around Peter’s neck lifting him and pinning him against a tree. He was breathless as he felt a blade pressing against his cheek. Peter couldn’t breath, he couldn’t see, the only thing he felt was pain. Though it wasn’t pain from the metal arm wrapped around his neck, nor the blade leaving a shallow indentation on his face._

_He felt Winter’s pain._

_“Wh-what’s your name?”_

—

Tony’s head drooped, it had been nearly an hour of silence in their dorm of Steve reading, Peter being passed out and Tony just watching him. The wooden chair was sitting on wasn’t comfortable in the least, though Tony was too anxious to get comfortable, let his guard down, lose control. 

And then he saw green. 

— 

_“You know my name.” The grip on Peter’s name tightens._

_“I know.. I know what we call you, what everyone else calls you, but what’s your name?” Peter pants softly as the grip loosens a bit. His hands move from a dangling position to rest on Winter’s chest. “You’re struggling… I know. I can feel you struggling.. This isn’t really you.”_

_Winter’s eyes are a stormy blue color, filled with as much pain as Peter can sense._

_Peter feels his feet touch the ground. He leans back against the tree to keep his balance. His eyes never leaving Winter’s. There’s a moment of silence which feels like an eternity. Peter’s hands still gently rest upon Winter’s chest, glowing a soft green. The pair look down for another long moment until Winter steps away, into the shadows._

—

“Steve.. he’s glowing, why the hell is he glowing?” Tony stands up, knocking over his chair. 

Peter’s body was enveloped in a soft green light. His body floated a few inches off of the bed. Bruises and cuts on his face and arms from the impact of falling began to slowly vanish. 

“He’s healing.. something’s healing him.” Steve’s book had fallen from his hands onto the floor. 

Their small dorm became brighter and brighter as the light around Peter intensified. It became blinding for a moment before dissipating, Peter’s body falling once again onto the bed. He was still asleep. 

—-

_Peter met Winter again the next morning._

_Winter was watching him sleep, or so he thought. Peter knew he was there, and just his presence had awoken him. And he stayed still, not sure of why he was here or what would happen. Was he here to hurt him again?_

_No that couldn’t be. He didn’t feel the same. He didn’t feel the dread and tension of being around him. Not like he had the night before._

_And Peter had dreamt about him, his stormy eyes and radiating energy which Peter could only describe as endless rage. Yet here he was, without that rage and an aura that was almost calming._

_“I know you’re awake. You’re bad at controlling your breathing patterns.” Winter’s voice was a deep slow drawl. Something about it made Peter shiver._

_“Sorry about that..” Peter sat up slowly. “I usually don’t have people breaking into my dorm.”_

_“I usually don’t have the time or energy for little escapades like this.” Winter quips back._

_Peter’s lips curl into a little smile. He wasn’t sure what about, but he couldn’t seem to help it. This scary man, this murderer, twice his size and more than a hundred times his strength was engaging in simple banter while sitting on the edge of his much too small bed._

_“I knew you weren’t bad..” Peter says softly._

_“I wouldn’t say that… you don’t know me.. You don’t know what I am, who I am.” Winter’s head hangs, his long hair shielding his face._

_“I know who you are… vaguely.” Peter brings his knees up against his chest, resting his chin as he looks at Winter intently. “I know your father is Ares.. I know that you’re different like me. You have a metal arm.. that’s kind of cool. You tried to kill me yesterday, but uh… I know that wasn’t really you, this is really you.”_

_“You’re a lot cuter when you’re not being choked to death.” Winter cracks the smallest smile. He examines his arm, the artificial one. Cool wasn’t a word he would ever use to describe it, maybe a curse, but Peter didn’t know his entire story so he couldn’t exactly blame him. He also couldn’t help but feel the smallest bit of pride swell in his chest when Peter’s cheek turn pink when he called him cute. This was different._

_“So you remember.. even if.. that wasn’t completely you?” The younger boy speaks slowly, trying to comprehend._

_“I remember everything.” He replies in a whisper._

_“So what’s your name?”_

—- 

“I think he’s waking up..” 

“You’re going to freak him out by staring like that.” 

“Your face is going to freak him out, Steve.” 

The voices settled as Peter finally felt himself waking up. He was in a familiar bed, like the one in his dorm, but it wasn’t his own. Slowly, he opens his eyes, met with two other pairs. For a split second he wanted to scream, but they felt kind, warm, concerned, not threatening. 

“Tony..?” He whispers with a little smile, before looking at Steve. “Oh.. hey Steven right? We have creative writing together.” 

“Yeah we do..” Steve says with a kind smile. 

“Right..” Peter sits up slowly, rubbing his eyes. “So uh.. what happened?” 

“So here’s the thing… I… you.. uh kind of got struck by lighting and passed out, because what else would you do after getting struck by lighting? And uh.. so we took you here, hi welcome and me and Steve’s dorm and uh, you were asleep for a while, and now here we are.” Tony rambles frantically. 

“You forgot the part where he started glowing green.” Steve adds 

“Oh yeah, and you got all floaty and green.” Tony laughs nervously, like he’s about to pop a blood vessel. 

“Hm…” Peter nods his head slowly. “Yeah, that happens to me sometimes.”


End file.
